Sabine had rarely felt true triumph. When Gar Saxon fell dead on the ice, his heart burnt to a crisp by her mother's deadly aim, she knew at that moment that her family was truly back on her side. No more customs, no more laws, just a mother, a daughter, and a brother, reunited as a family once again. Of course, she wasn't surprised when Fen Rau had to comment on the political turmoil that would soon follow Saxon's death, and she was even less surprised when her mother resumed her persona and proudly declared Mandalore's need for violence to strengthen its position.
"Forget about it," Sabine spoke up, vigor and determination in her tone. Firmly treading over the ice, she took her mother's hands into her own. Looking up at her mother, Sabine finally had a reason to smile that day. "I have my family again, and I'll be damned if we don't make a day worth remembering it!"
Her mother gave a haughty laugh at her zeal, and her brother scoffed. To them, it had been just another day of Mandalorian politics mixed in with a welcome surprise. Sabine would have none of it be reduced to such a mundane affair and pulled her mother into a hug, one that finally felt worthy of receiving from a mother. Only on those cold, sad nights in the Ghost did Hera's hugs feel as warm as this did.
Sabine slowly let go of her mother, who was certainly glad to have her daughter back but felt just a little bit uncomfortable with letting down her walls in front of so many people, especially to the Jedi outsiders.
"Ever seen how Mandalorians party, Ezra?" Sabine called out with a grin. Tossing her hair back, she took in a breath of fresh, crisp air. "There's a reason we only had one Mandalorian Jedi on the Council!"
To that, Ezra had to laugh. Kanan groaned, but he couldn't hide his grin, as he recalled wild nights with Mandalorians in the Clone War when he was such a young and naive kid.
Back inside the palace, the troops had hastily cleaned up the shoot out room and disposed of the traitors. With everything in order, they awaited their Countess.
"Tihaar, the galaxy's best engine degreaser!" Sabine's mother announced to her crowd of rowdy Mandalorians who had survived the shootout. In true Mandalorian fashion, they were about to party on the grounds of their defeated enemies. In truer fashion, they all began to shriek and bellow as their Countess brought out the last two barrels of their Tihaar, smashing their fists against their helmets and quick-igniting their jetpacks for additional noise.
Ezra wasn't sure if they were going to tear themselves apart before the Countess allowed them to drink, but Sabine was having a hearty laugh over the display, and so he joined in hollering as she bashed her helmet against her chestplate.
"We have Kri'gee for the real men!" Fen Rau roared over the cheering as he hoisted a red barrel over his head triumphantly, to which the crowd redoubled their efforts to shatter the stained glass mural with their voices.
Kanan patted Ezra on the shoulder. "I am far too old for this. I'll be outside."
"You're missing out!" he and Sabine said to the same effect, to which Kanan chuckled.
"I've partied enough with Mandalorians," he assured them as he departed into the calm, crisp winter day.
As the warriors broke open their barrels and began to drink heartily, Sabine grabbed two cups and filled them halfway. The warriors, though rowdy, recognized that they couldn't afford to spill a drop, and a laugh was had over how stingy they had become under the Empire. With Sabine in the thick if the crowd, the cheers began to call for her to step up and speak, to which her mother nodded approvingly.
Hopping up onto the table, Sabine hoisted her glasses over her head and screamed, "Kriff the Empire!"
It was a unanimous vote of approval, louder than their appreciation of their fine beverages, and it did no small favor to Sabine's already inflated ego for the day.
Hopping down, she took several slaps to the shoulders and head as she made her way back to Ezra. The bulk of the crowd lined up for their drinks while she handed him one precious glass.
"Drink, or just look like you're drinking," she calmly instructed as she threw back her glass. Eyes partially rolling back, she groaned, "They'll tear you apart if they see you waste any of this!"
Nodding, Ezra proceeded to make three mistakes. First, he sniffed the drink as she handed it to him. He figured that the Countess had spoken in hyperbole when she called it engine degreaser, but he wasn't sure if he was legitimately being handed a cup of degreasing fluid. As his eyes began to water, he gawked as Sabine took a second, hearty swig and swallowed. Resolving to do her proud, he held his breath and took a drink. His second mistake was actually trying to drink it like a glass of water, something to be leisurely sipped after a hearty meal; nearly crying, he wondered why the strong filth tasted like oil, only if oil was sugary.
His third mistake was spitting it back into the cup, jaw wide open as he his tear ducts expressed his wild discomfort. Long, sticky trails of his saliva mixed with the drink, and he spat the residue in his mouth back into his cup, desperate to get the taste out for good.
Having an eye on the child who had taken a fancy to her daughter, the Countess smirked, eyebrow raised, as her entire gang quickly took notice of this failure to appreciate the luxuries of life. They boo'ed him, called for his head, questioned his anatomy, and one female voice asked if he'd prefer her own breast milk. The crowd had a good laugh at that and quickly resumed drinking and being merry.
Sabine took the cup from his hand. "I have a lot to show you," she huffed with a grin as she snapped her head back and drank half his cup in one go.
"At least I have the Force!" he tried to defend himself as he began to feel very out of place with the warriors.
Wheezing, she nearly doubled over but stood firm. Swallowing hard, she felt the acidic sludge slide down her throat, burning like a blaster. "I am a force!" she bellowed back at him as she could feel the warm, molten iron in her stomach.
Her brother took her drink from her hand as she was busy with her tirade. "Lightweight!" he laughed, helping himself to her drink.
Sabine wheeled around and lunged for her drink. Tristan sidestepped her, and she flailed, catching her arm around his, spinning him as she herself spun. Careful to balance his drink, Tristan engaged in a small dance with his sister as she regained her footing. The display caught the attention of the crowd, who colorfully voiced their desires to show how a real dancer danced.
"Bring out the valachord!" Sabine's mother commanded, to which a few of her underlings hastily raced out to obey their Countess' wish. A long time after, in a galaxy far, far away this beautiful instrument would be reinvented as the "piano", though it would not accompany the proud culture of anyone so fine as the Mandalorians.
The valachord's hover cell had long been stripped for more pragmatic uses, but that didn't stop the Mandalorians from using sheer back power to hoist the massive coffin-shaped keyboard out into the hall. After a few rowdy soldiers, tipsy or not it was hard to tell, tried to show their prowess with the keys, but the Countess wasn't interested in auditions. "Tristan! Man the keys," she commanded as she sauntered over to the center of the room, her troops naturally parting like tides to make way for her.
Grinning, Tristan did as he was told. He chose a slow drawl with rapid sessions of highs and lows for starters. Sabine couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd heard a valachord being used for real music, much less for a real Mandalorian celebration. But, she was able to remember when her mother used to smile as she did at that moment. Always looking to the future, Sabine found herself overcome with nostalgia and a big, dumb smile stretching from ear to ear.
"Your mother can dance?!" Ezra gawked as Sabine continued to drink from her recovered glass. What little Tristan did not take, she happily downed.
"You haven't seen a real Mandalorian dance," Sabine hummed.
The Countess, always one to put on some kind of performance, began to match Tristan's tune. Arms hanging loose, she began to scuff her boots back and forth, hopping up and down, side-to-side. As his tune drawled, so did her step, and when he accelerated she began to hop to the base and move like water with the treble clef.
"Faster, boy!" she called out as her rusty dancing skills had quickly been oiled with practice and a fine three glasses of Kri'gee. "You'll rock me to sleep!"
Tristan obliged, and his hands began to dance and pound on the keys, riding up and down the board as he dared his mother to hop like a rabbit, to which she eagerly accepted. As Ursa got into the faster tune, she swung her arms wildly outwards as she began to dance faster, feet hopping and skipping as her fancy footwork took her in a figure eight pattern. The cheers of her soldiers shot through the roof as the calm, cold, calculated Fen Rau slammed down the rest of his drink and jumped into the dance with the fair Ursa Wren.
Slapping her hands to her cheeks, Sabine practically squealed, "Mother! You can't be serious!" Sure enough, Ursa Wren welcomed her new partner onto the field, and the two adults began to mirror each other's footwork. Undoing her bun, Ursa Wren let her greying hair flow freely behind her. It danced about her shoulders, free as her spirit.
Laughing hard, Tristan challenged the dancers with a quicker pace to his tune, and the two accepted. A man out to prove himself, Fen stopped his figure eight and began to wildly kick his legs about, arms firmly crossed about his chest.
Always one to rise to a challenge, Ursa crossed her own arms and skidded to a halt. She not only began to mirror his kick-step but threw in a routine of high-kicks to earn whistles and hoots from her men and even some of her women.
Fen tried to win back the crowd under Tristan's hearty keys by using thunderous stomps in his footwork, but Ursa had soundly defeated him. He took a bow, to which Ursa accepted with a bow of her own. "Drink with me, Rau!" she called out over the roars, and the two cleared the dance floor for the troops.
"Hey, mom!" Tristan shouted as he continued to play. "Can you get me a refi-! Mom! Okay, I guess not!" he loudly decided with a huff and a grin. He resumed playing, so that the others could enjoy dancing with their partners and friends.
Sabine hadn't realized she was tipsily swaying her body back and forth until she caught Ezra looking at her. "I know what you want," she saucily said.
Smug, Ezra raised an eyebrow and scrunching his lips in a smirk.
Poking him with the safe end, she gave him his lightsaber back. Rolling his eyes, Ezra took it back and attached it to his belt. "Thanks," he scoffed.
"I'll show you how to dance!" she selflessly sacrifice as she thrust her hands into his and dragged him closer to the valachord.
"Sabine!" Ezra nervously laughed. Not intent upon looking the fool again, he tried to insist, "I-! You-!"
"It's no problem at all, you're welcome!" she assured him, cheeks growing rosier. "Watch, just mirror my step!" True to the tune, she began to hop up and down, alternating on one leg while scraping the floor in a flurry of motions with the other. Her arms swung loose and free as Tristan continued to play.
Ezra, far too sober for the occasion, felt it best to try to have fun in it all, despite the totally-not-leering gazes he was drawing.
She started with her right foot as a foundation, using it to balance herself as she kicked and scraped her left foot back and forth, side to side to the tune of the valachord, a happy and upbeat tune.
As Tristan's hands began to roam up and down the board, so did Sabine's step, as she began to hop from one foot to the other, mirroring her scraping motions. Hopping side to side, Sabine rapidly slammed her fist down on the instrument, and Tristan began to pick up speed in response. Sabine, in turn, began to swing her arms jubilantly as if they were liquid. The smile on her face was bright enough to clash with Ezra's saber, and he awkwardly began to clap along, not sure of what to do with himself.
"Copy my style!" Sabine instructed with a laugh. She slowed down her step. "Out, back, side, side," she repeated as she pointed at her moving boot.
Ezra began to do as she instructed, though completely offbeat.
Seeing him struggle but stick to it, Sabine felt a bit of shame over how she had reacted to Kanan's teachings at first. Ezra was definitely the better student, as far as she was concerned in comparing herself to him. Recognizing that the tune Tristan was playing wasn't going to help, she leaned over.
"Play us something more for beginners?" she asked as sweetly as she was tipsy.
Grinning, Tristan motioned with his head towards the center of their new ballroom. "Take your dhar'tome out to the dancefloor, and you got it."
Rolling her eyes, Sabine nodded but threatened, "If you embarrass me I'm going to twist your arm."
"You will try," he shot back with a squint, recalling previous matches that had not gone as planned.
"I will do what I must," she scoffed as she dragged Ezra out to the center. The troops immediately began to clear a path and give the girl of honor some space. The loud rumbles of the party began to quiet down as everyone backed up, getting a good view of their new entertainment.
Sabine had felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she battled Saxon. A dance with one awkward boy was hardly a trial for her at that point.
"Don't forget to dance with me," he nervously reminded her as Tristan confidently cracked his knuckles.
Smiling, Sabine rosily hummed, "I'll show you the time of your life!"
True to his word, Tristan began to play a slower tune. It was still happy and upbeat to Ezra's untrained ear, but Sabine immediately recognized the song to be a sub-component in the larger symphony arrangement of Meluran's "Woes of The Warrior", one of the sauciest romance operas Mandalore had ever produced. Truly, it was a classic symphony from the days of the Old Republic.
Everyone broke out into laughter as Tristan began to play.
"What's going on?" Ezra wondered as he began to mirror Sabine's gentle, bobbing sway.
Sabine let them have their laugh as she lined her body up with the rhythm. "Nothing," she lied. Spying her mother cross her hand over her mouth in a feigned, thoughtful pose, she scowled. "You're an outsider trying to dance with a Mandalorian, that's all. This song's good for beginners, because it repeats its tune in double-increments. I'll do a bit, and you'll watch. Then the music will reset with a more elaborate base, and you'll emulate what I did."
"Sure, sure," Ezra agreed, nodding as he adjusted his shirt collar, feeling somewhat heated within the palace walls of the winter wonderland.
"I'll use my right foot first. Just watch the kick step." The music began to play in ernest, and Sabine played along. "Step, step, side, side, step," she instructed with each kick and scrape of her boot. Step, step, side, side, step... now you go," Sabine instructed as the first lively iteration finished.
Bobbing and swaying, Ezra threw his left foot out and stiffly imitated Sabine's smooth, sleek flowing legs. When he completed his first loop, Sabine's beaming smile filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment, even though all of the other Mandalorians gave him a hearty round of hoots and hollers for appreciating their ways.
That pride sank into a pit of intimidating suspicion as the Countess stepped up with a knowing smirk on her lips. Patting Sabine on the shoulder, she announced to the whole room. "Step aside, Sabine. Your dhar'tome needs a teacher!"
"Mother!" Sabine shrieked with embarrassment, slapping her hands over her face as she stumbled away in laughter. "He's not my-!"
"I'm a what?" Ezra wondered as the Countess yelled at her son to play them a saucier tune, the audience enjoying his bewilderment far too much.
"Keep up, child!" she called out as her legs began to fly about. Her flexibility was on par with Sabine's, but her speed and finesse held decades more experience, even though she was out of practice. "This is how you woo a daughter of Clan Wren!"
Ezra suddenly had a good idea of what a dhar'tome was.
A/N: Old Ezra/Sabine trash I spruced up for publishing. I would actually be very ticked if this ship happened and am very grateful that it didn't happen! XD
Also, there's no specific term for "boyfriend", but the term "dhar'tome" is used in an expression "We are one when we are apart," so I think it's pretty darn close enough!
Tune in tomorrow for part 2, and I'll crank out a part 3.